


You Try Around

by coricomile



Category: Hockey RPF
Genre: Handcuffed Together, M/M, OneGoalFic, Trope Bingo Round 6
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-04-22
Updated: 2016-04-22
Packaged: 2018-06-03 17:22:25
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,708
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6619591
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/coricomile/pseuds/coricomile
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"Which one of you shits has the key?" Jonny asks when the team's had their fill of mocking them. He turns his shark eyes on and even Patrick shies away. Teuvo, poor kid, looks like he's going to cry. Or maybe that's just his face.</p>
            </blockquote>





	You Try Around

**Author's Note:**

> Dear Blackhawks, please please please don't get eliminated tonight. That would be super awesome.

There's something heavy on Patrick's wrist. He groans, burying his face in his pillow and rolling over. Tries to roll over. His arm jerks behind him when he's halfway to his side, the heavy thing cutting into the skin there and pulling. He groans and yanks his arm again, but whatever it is fucking hurts. 

He cracks open one eyes and jumps when he sees Jonny's stupid face right next to his on the pillow. His mouth hangs open, blowing his nasty morning breath right into Patrick's face, his eyebrows drawn together like he's going to start a bitch fit in his sleep. Patrick doesn't remember getting into Jonny's bed, or Jonny getting into his. They'd left the door between their rooms open because they almost always did these days, but they'd gone to sleep in their own beds. 

Patrick brings his hand up to shove him away, but a few things become automatically clear. Thing one: the heavy thing around his wrist that's been bugging him since he woke up is one half of a pair of handcuffs. Thing two: the other half of those handcuffs is nice and snug around Jonny's wrist, shiny where it lays against his bare chest. 

"What the fuck," Patrick says. Jonny mutters something under his breath, curling into Patrick's side. It would be almost cute if his bony ass knees weren't digging into Patrick's thigh. "Tazer." Patrick gives it a beat and repeats himself. "Tazer." Jonny mouth breathes at him but doesn't wake up. 

Patrick pinches one of Jonny's nipples and twists, using their handcuffed arms to block the automatic headbutt Jonny throws at him. Patrick had found out about the headbutting- and the punching and the kicking- the first few times he'd tried to wake Jonny up rookie year. He's learned to just let him get up on his own, but right now Patrick has to piss like a motherfucker and if Jonny doesn't come with, it's going to go all over the bed. 

"Fuck off," Jonny grumbles. Patrick taps his fingers against his thigh and waits for it. Jonny tries to cover his eyes and pulls up short. He opens an eye, glowering at Patrick, and tugs again. And yep, there it is. His face scrunches up as he looks down at their wrists, partly his usual morning failure and partly totally justified confusion. "What the fuck did you do?"

"I didn't do jackshit," Patrick says. Up this close, he can see the shifting colors of Jonny's eyes, the strange way his pupils shrink as he turns his face towards the sunlight. He squirms. He really has to piss. "Get up, dickhead. I have to pee."

"Fucking hold it," Jonny snaps. He yanks their arms up and pulls at the handcuffs, trying to slide his fingers under the ring around his wrist. Maybe Patrick should have tried that first. Whatever, the handcuffs stay locked, no matter how hard Jonny fucks with it 

"I will whip it out and piss on you," Patrick warns. "Get the fuck up." 

It's actually really hard to get out of bed without dislocating a shoulder. In the end, they manage to scoot down to the end of the mattress and roll onto the floor. Patrick races to the bathroom, dragging Jonny along behind him. 

Patrick sighs when he finally gets his dick out. Jonny waits until he's done to do his own thing, which Patrick thinks is stupid, but whatever. It's not like Jonny being stupid is something new. 

"Okay," Jonny says later, after breakfast has been ordered and teeth have been brushed. Patrick keeps dropping food off his fork and Jonny keeps laughing at him. His right hand is the one tied down and it's killing his coordination. "We need to figure out what happened."

"No shit," Patrick says around a mouthful of hashbrowns. Jonny makes a face at him and Patrick flips him off. Left handed. 

"Are you going to be an asshole, or are you going to help?" Jonny stabs a sausage viciously with his fork, pointing it at Patrick. It loses some of the impact when half of the sausage breaks off and tumbles to the floor. Patrick snorts and ends up having to blow orange juice out his nose into one of the shitty, scratchy napkins. Jesus Christ, they're a mess. Jonny scowls at him. 

"Alright. Recap." Patrick jingles their linked arms. "I went to sleep last night in my own bed alone. I woke up with you attached. Since you were the one in _my_ bed, you're the one with some explaining to do."

"I didn't fucking handcuff myself to you in the middle of the night," Jonny says. "I went to sleep in my own bed, too."

They argue about it until they're done with breakfast and through the exciting process of getting new pants and boxers on. Patrick stares at Jonny's bare ass because it's there and it's impressive. If he reached out just a little he'd be able to grab one cheek and test how firm it is. Regardless, the back of his hand drags across Jonny's hip when Jonny pulls his pants up and buttons the fly. 

Patrick, because he is not a shameless asshole, has a t-shirt on. Jonny, who wouldn't know modesty if it sat on his face, does not. He makes noises about trying to get one on, but Patrick wiggles their arms meaningfully. Until they get this shit off, Jonny's going topless. 

If Sharpy were still around, Patrick would be banging down his door. But Sharpy's gone, which will never stop sucking, and Patrick doesn't have any ideas for culprits. Shawsy maybe, but the face he makes when he sees them in the hall is too shocked and pleased. Shawsy's good at a lot of stuff, but acting isn't in the category. 

"You guys have a good night?" He asks, wiggling his eyebrows. He shouts for the rest of the guys, startling some of the other people in the lobby. Jonny punches him. "Ow. Dude."

"Which one of you shits has the key?" Jonny asks when the team's had their fill of mocking them. He turns his shark eyes on and even Patrick shies away. Teuvo, poor kid, looks like he's going to cry. Or maybe that's just his face. 

No one owns up to it, which isn't surprising at all. Jonny's still arguing with Duncs and Seabs- his primary suspects- but Patrick buys their stories. They've cooled down a lot on the pranks since spawning offspring, and Seabs' go-tos are both intensely predictable and involve more shit in Patrick's duffle. Artemi keeps looking at them, head tilted and eyes narrowed. Maybe he can figure out how the hell to get them out of the stupid things. 

"I don't want to know," Q says when he reaches them. He pinches the bridge of his nose and snaps his fingers at Trevor, who has the misfortune of being closest to him. "Sweater. Now." Trevor opens his bag and dutifully hands over a hoodie. "You're both too old for this shit."

Patrick is embarrassed, standing there while his coach makes a hoodie toga in the middle of the hotel lobby in plain sight of any jackass that happens to be nearby, but Jonny looks mortified. His face has gone splotchy and he won't meet anyone's eyes. Patrick knocks their knuckles together as discreetly as he can while Q zips up the hoodie at Jonny's side. He's got the hood under one armpit and the sleeves tied in a knot over the opposite shoulder. He looked less ridiculous half naked. 

"Bus. Move." Q points towards the door and the entire team shuffles out like scolded schoolboys. Patrick hopes they all feel shitty. They deserve it 

When they get on the bus, they push the armrest between their seats up and get as comfortable as they can. Patrick kind of wishes they were flying back, but St. Louis isn't that far. If they'd gone to the airport, a TSA agent could have at least spring them free.

Patrick waits until the bus is pulling out of the hotel parking lot to lean in and ask, "You okay?"

"Whatever, " Jonny says. He looks out the window and that, apparently, is that. 

\---

Patrick is man enough to admit that he's sort of maybe kind of in love with Jonny and has been for awhile. Rookie year he'd spent more time in the shower jerking it to Jonny's workout grunting, which he is ashamed of, but who could blame him? Jonny's hot and would be naked all the time if there weren't laws against it, and Patrick appreciates that in a person. 

The feelings bomb probably got him after Jonny's crash. Fuck but Patrick had been scared when he'd gotten the call. Seabs had had to help him tie his shoes after Q finally let them go because Patrick's hands had been shaking so much, the blind terror of Jonny bloodied and unconscious making Patrick's stomach turn. Seabs had driven him to Jonny's condo and watched over the shouting match that had happened when Patrick found about the concussion. 

It's just- Jonny's an asshole, and he's bossy, and he always pushes just a step too far, but he's also funny and genuinely thinks Patrick's worth putting effort into. He came around when he could after Patrick broke his collarbone, keeping Patrick company and fussing over him in his weird Jonny way. 

So, yeah, Patrick still cranks it out thinking about Jonny's ass, but he also sometimes has weird, girly dreams about raising kids with him one day. He tries not to think about it a lot because he knows a lost cause when he sees one. 

Unfortunately, with Jonny literally at his side at all times, he can't help himself. 

Jonny always gets tired on bus trips, no matter how long he slept the night before. His head is tilted against the window, mouth open and eyes shut. His hand has gone lax in the space between them and Patrick is using the excuse to touch their fingertips together. It's weird. He knows it's weird, but Jonny has these little calluses there from playing guitar and Patrick can't help himself. 

The bus stops in Normal, which is the actual name of an actual town, and the guys filter out to grab a quick lunch. Patrick considers shaking Jonny awake, but he stops when he catches sight of the stupid hoodie toga. He's all for embarrassing Jonny any time he can, but the double whammy of shame of that plus the handcuffs may be too much. 

But fuck he's hungry. During the season, he's always hungry. Even when he's not, he's shoveling food into his face to try to keep weight. When he was a teenager, he'd thought it was awesome that his nutrition plan had so many calories on it, but the workload has doubled and he's stayed mostly the same size, no matter how many carbs he eats. He doesn't know how Jonny does it, since he won't pig out like the rest of them do. 

"Sandwiches?" Teuvo asks quietly from the aisle. Artemi's right behind him, looking curiously over the back of the seat at Jonny. They both look so fucking young. Patrick doesn't remember looking that young, not even during draft days. If he weren't weighted down by two hundred pounds of captain, he'd hug them. 

"God, yes," he says. Teuvo nods and they hurry to catch up. Patrick loves the rookies. "Tazer. Tazer. _Tazer_." Patrick punches Jonny's shoulder, right under the toga knot and ducks the swing that comes back at him. "Food. Wake up."

"I'm not getting off the fucking bus," Jonny grumbles. He doesn't move until Teuvo reappears with their sandwiches. "Thanks, Turbo."

They eat in their seats, timing their bites together to use both hands. Jonny eats slower than Patrick does, takes smaller bites, and Patrick whines about it until Jonny rubs lettuce in his face. 

"Dude, fucking gross." Patrick wipes his face off with the back of his arm, scowling. Jonny laughs. "You're disgusting."

"You're disgusting," Jonny fires back, clever as always. 

Patrick's managed to finish off his food when the guys load back up but still has to do the motion because Jonny's still eating. He's almost one hundred percent sure Jonny's just going so slow to fuck with them. Duncs pats their heads as he walks past, laughing like this hasn't been the situation all day. 

Maybe he did it after all. 

\----

No one trust Patrick or Jonny to drive without being pulled over, so they end up sitting in the back seat of Hoss' car. Patrick had spent part of the ride looking up videos on YouTube on how to escape. So far he hasn't found anything that doesn't involve welding or dislocation. He's not eager for either of those options and he's betting Jonny's not either. 

Hoss pulls into the back lot and doesn't give them any shit. He's good for chirping the guys, but he gets when to stop. Patrick wishes he'd teach Shawsy. The hoodie toga is gone, sweater back with Trevor, and Jonny looks infinitely more comfortable. Also a little like he recently left a bondage club. 

He's banged up from the last few games, splotchy red spots on his chest and stomach and a dark bruise just under his ribcage. It's definitely not anything new but put into context with the shiny metal bracelet it's making Patrick have thoughts. Man, the things he'd do if he could. 

They climb the stairs to Jonny's apartment sideways, too broad to fit through the narrow stairwell side by side. If one of them trips, they're totally boned. 

"So," Patrick says when they're in Jonny's apartment. "I'm guessing working out is just going to have to wait."

"Ha, you'd think so," Jonny says. Patrick sighs. It was worth the attempt.

Jonny does make him work out because he's a douchebag. Patrick's lower body aches when they're done, his thighs angry every time he takes a step. He can see the moment Jonny realizes he's made a mistake. His eyes widen and his mouth face goes even redder. 

"Uh," he says. Patrick snorts. 

"Sink bath, come on," he says. They've showered together more times that Patrick can count, but there had always been the standard stall length or more apart. Patrick's never popped a boner in the locker room because he is a fucking professional and he learned not to sneak peeks a long time ago, but there's a difference between the too small cram of a bathtub and the smelly, crowded locker room. 

Patrick's shirt is a lost cause. Jonny does the honors of taking scissors to it, slicing a neat line up the sleeve and down the side. Patrick shivers at the cold press of the metal to his side. He'd liked that shirt enough to keep it in his go bag. He's sad to see it go. 

"It was hideous," Jonny says callously as he kicks it toward the trashcan. "One day you'll get a stylist."

"You're such a pretentious dick," Patrick says because fuck Jonny. At least he doesn't bum around team shit in his shorts. "Give me a fucking washcloth."

It's easy enough to wash off his chest and under his right pit, but he has to to twist in a really uncomfortable way to get under the left. Jonny laughs at him, but he has to do the same thing, so he can suck a dick. The sink bath isn't going to be as good as a real shower, but it won't leave Jonny's bed reeking of sweat. 

"I really hate this," Patrick says when they're back on the couch. Jonny's apartment is freezing and his nipples hurt a little. He wants to rub them to get them down, but he can only imagine the level of shit Jonny will give him for it. 

"Yeah," Jonny says after a moment. Patrick looks over at him, but Jonny's staring hard at the TV. This is the fourth time they've watched Inception and neither of them have figured it out. Jonny apparently is going to get it this time or throw it in the trash. 

There isn't a lot to do when handcuffed to someone. Patrick never realized how much shit took two hands to do. They order in dinner because there's no way they won't cut something vital off if they attempt cooking and Jonny's gone quiet and kind of standoffish. He answers when Patrick talks to him, but he doesn't offer much. 

It kind of hurts. Patrick knows Jonny likes his space and that he takes time to wind down after being with the guys for too long, but usually Patrick got to be included in the wind down time. He tries not to be irritating, which says something because he loves nothing more than winding Jonny up, but he keeps catching Jonny looking at him with this pinched face that makes Patrick's stomach turn. 

"We can cut them off tomorrow," Patrick blurts out. Jonny looks up from his book, startled. His eyes are wide, eyebrows shot up towards his receding hairline. Patrick shouldn't think that it's kind of cute, but he does. He really does. He's so pathetic. "Skate sharpener should do it. Just, god, don't jump or something. We can't lose our hands."

"We're not going to use the skate sharpener," Jonny says. Patrick shrugs and it drags Jonny's hand closer to him. "Whoever did it is going to cough up the key at practice." The _or die_ is implied, but Patrick hears it loud and clear. 

"Sure." 

Patrick tries to focus on the TV but he's restless and uncomfortable. He can't stop bouncing his leg, and it keeps jostling Jonny's book and pissing him off. Patrick feels like they're gearing up towards an old school screaming match, which might clear up some of the tension hovering around them, but Jonny isn't taking the bait for maybe the first time ever. 

When Jonny decides it's finally time to go to bed, Patrick's keyed up and twitchy and sleep is the last thing on his mind. He'd figured this handcuff thing was going to be annoying until they were done with it, that was the point, but he hadn't expected Jonny to hate it so much. He thinks they're probably not going to see each other for a while outside of team stuff, and it makes him angry and really fucking sad. 

They brush their teeth and lose their pants before crawling into Jonny's bed. Seabs is going to pick them up in the morning, and then they're going to get the handcuffs off, and Patrick will go sit his ass in a corner until Jonny stops thinking he's annoying or whatever. 

The handcuffs leave them facing each other, their knees knocking under the covers. Patrick closes his eyes, but he can feel Jonny everywhere, can smell his stupid Wolfsbane shampoo on the pillow, and hear the loud, raspy sounds of his breaths. If Jonny would just- just push him or something, make this feel like their normal thing, he would be fine. He'd been fine. 

"Stop moving," Jonny snaps. Patrick knees one of his huge thighs, feeling victorious when Jonny kicks back on autopilot. 

They scuffle under the covers, kicking and throwing their weight around in an effort to come out on top. It's hard to get in a good punch, but Patrick jerks little rabbit jabs with his left hand into Jonny's chest, catching a bruise with the edge of his knuckles. Jonny hisses and rolls them off the bed. Patrick hits the ground hard, but even pissed off and fighting, Jonny gets his free hand under Patrick's head to cushion it from smacking off the dresser. 

And that- that makes Patrick so fucking angry he could cry. Fucking Jonny doing shit like that. If he were just a dick all the time, Patrick could hate him. They could play beautiful hockey together and be done with it. He bucks up under Jonny, digging his feet into the carpet, but Jonny outweighs him and has found good leverage to hold him down. 

"I get it," Jonny says, bracing an arm down across Patrick's chest. It brings his face close, his dark eyes doing a better job of keeping Patrick from fighting back than his weight. "You hate this. You'd rather be fucking prank handcuffed to Artemi or Shawsy or what the fuck ever. But you have to deal with me for another ten hours, and if you don't just let me-" Jonny shakes his head and sits up. 

"Let you what?" Patrick asks. It comes out a little strained because what? "Dude, if I were strapped to the Mutt I'd have sawed my own arm off by now."

"That's not the-" Jonny shakes his head. Patrick carefully twists his chafed, raw wrist in the bracelet and wraps his fingers around Jonny's. He expects Jonny to shake him off or move away, but Jonny just looks down at their hands and waits. 

Patrick doesn't know what's going on, but he doesn't think he's reading this wrong. 

"If I had to be prank handcuffed to someone, I'd always pick you, alright?" He swallows, his heart thudding heavily in his chest. He closes his eyes and breathes out slowly. He's just so fucking tired of holding back, and if the handcuffs are the thing that's going to break them anyway, he might as well go all in. "I think I love you."

He braces himself for a punch, face screwed up and muscles tensed. But Jonny just sits there, quiet and still. He's still holding Patrick's hand, the metal links between their wrists heavy where they rest on Patrick's chest. When Patrick opens his eyes, Jonny's staring at him, mouth open and eyebrows drawn together. 

"Are you fucking with me?" Jonny asks. Patrick laughs. He can't help it. Jonny digs his nails into Patrick's pec and Patrick yelps. 

"Ow, fuck. I'm not fucking with you. I'm really, really not." Patrick's ass hurts where it's digging into the floor, but he keeps himself still, lets Jonny figure whatever out on his own. 

For a long moment Jonny just stares at him, their faces too close and Jonny's weight getting steadily more uncomfortable. Then he leans forward carefully, his arm pressing down into Patrick's chest still just enough to leave him breathless, and brushes their lips together. It's soft and almost sweet in a way Jonny never is and over before Patrick can do anything about it. 

"Okay?" Jonny asks. 

"Oh my god," Patrick says, because clearly he got knocked out when he wasn't paying attention and this is a weird dream. He's going to take every advantage of it that he can. He bucks his hips and manages to roll them over, collapsing on Jonny's chest in a truly ungainly fashion, winding them both.

The second kiss is better, if only because Patrick actually gets to participate this time. Jonny's lips are soft and damp and he bites a little when he kisses, like he's not even aware he's doing it. He curls his free hand around the back of Patrick's neck and holds him there, like he's afraid Patrick's going to go away. He wouldn't even if he could.

"Dude," Patrick says when he lifts up to drag in a breath. Jonny's mouth has gone all puffy. Patrick gets stuck staring at it. God, he's never going to look at Jonny and not remember this. "Wait. We're you jealous of Breadman?"

"Now isn't the time," Jonny says, scowling. Patrick figures he should probably let it drop, but he's never been good at holding himself back. 

"Tazer," Patrick says, wiggling until he can get his hips between Jonny's thighs. He's hoping to repeat this process later without the boxers, but right now he mostly needs to get the pressure off his strained back. Tomorrow's practice is going to be exciting. "Tazer, you will always be my favorite."

"You spend a lot of time with him," Jonny mumbles. Patrick laughs. Fuck, maybe he isn't as good at reading Jonny as he'd thought. "I-" Jonny shrugs. "I thought you'd finally found someone else to hang out with instead."

"Oh my god, you're so stupid," Patrick says. He feels light and free and happy. Jonny like-likes him and even though he hasn't said anything about Patrick dropping the L-bomb, he hasn't made any noise about not wanting to do this. 

"Fuck you," Jonny snaps. 

"We could, you know," Patrick says, rolling his hips. Jonny shivers under him, tongue sliding out across his lower lip. God, Patrick wants to do _everything_ to him. 

"Tomorrow," Jonny says. He twists his left arm, dragging Patrick down by the wrist and kissing him again. "We get these off and see what happens."

"Tease," Patrick says, but the floor really hasn't done anything for him, and he can only imagine how bad trying to bone now would go. 

They manage to get into bed unscathed, even if half of the fitted sheet isn't technically on the bed. Patrick thinks they'd probably break something of they tried to get it back on straight. Jonny doesn't hesitate to pull Patrick in against him, resting his chin on top of Patrick's head. It's not really comfortable, their arms twisted where they can't pull away, but Patrick's not going to complain. 

"I'm glad it was you, too," Jonny says softly. Patrick pinches him, because he's the squishy one in this relationship. Oh, god, relationship with Jonny. 

"Go to sleep, dumbass," he says. 

\---

They do their walk of shame to the locker room way too early in the morning. The guys hoot and whistle and Patrick flips them off. Jonny puts his fists on his hips, which is ruined a little bit by Patrick dangling off him. In surprising news, no one is cowed. 

"Alright, fuckers, step up," Jonny says. Duncs and Seabs hold their hands up, followed by Shawsy and Hoss. Other hands follow suit, until just Teuvo and Artemi are left. Artemi's doing the big eye thing, like he thinks that's going to get him off the hook. It's totally not. Patrick will show the little fuckers how pranks are _really_ done. "Out."

The locker room clears quickly, half dressed guys trailing their gear after them. Duncs pats Artemi on the head and hums a little as he passes. Patrick glares at him. Bad influence. 

"You two are in so much shit," Jonny says. Teuvo hangs his head and scoots a little back to hide behind Artemi. As if. "Key, now."

The rookies shuffle over and Artemi pauses in front of them, hand in his pocket. He cocks his head and looks them over, eyes narrowing when they hit the suspiciously mouth sized bruise on Jonny's collarbone. Patrick couldn't help himself. It was right there under his mouth. Artemi reaches back and holds his hand up. 

"Good job," Artemi says. Teuvo beams at him and connects a high five. Patrick is betrayed. By his own rookies no less. What ever happened to hero worship and respect for your elders? 

"You little shits," Patrick says. Artemi just grins and tosses the keys into Jonny's outstretched palm. 

"Stupid," Artemi says, pointing at Jonny and Patrick for extra emphasis. Forget showing him how to prank. Patrick's going to piss on everything he loves. "We fix."

"See you on the ice," Teuvo says and drags Artemi towards the rink, both of them laughing brightly. 

"We got outplayed," Jonny says morosely. He undoes his bracelet and then Patrick's. Patrick massages the sore skin underneath and makes a note to rub utter cream on it later. Christ, there's no way to play that mark up. 

"Worked out though," Patrick says. He jabs Jonny in the hickey and sets his stuff down in his stall. It feels weird to be able to move his right arm freely. He feels like he should still be at Jonny's side. It's not like it's anything new. 

"Yeah," Jonny says fondly. He grins at Patrick and starts getting ready as the guys start popping back in for their stuff. "Still going to get them back, though."

"Obviously," Patrick says. Revenge will be sweet.


End file.
